


New strings

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Weather, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Home, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Music, Oath of Fëanor, Picnics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Rivendell | Imladris, Second Chances, housing disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Maglor is rescued, now to fit him into life in Imladris.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Erestor/Glorfindel (Tolkien)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 156





	1. Maglor – All I asked for was one last picnic.

**Author's Note:**

> This one takes place directly after one of my other stories, "Snow Hike". I would put them into a series, but truthfully ALL of my stories happen in the same little universe and eventually will intersect in places so I wasn't entirely sure what the point would be. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: severe weather, PTSD and various levels of coping with events that are traumatizing, possible questionable parenting. As always, please contact me if you have questions about the content.

It was the perfect day for a picnic. The chaotic weather had for once evened out into a day that was neither freezing nor broiling hot. It wasn’t raining, snowing or hailing. (All of which happened unpredictably now.) The light clouds shaded the sun so that it was bright but still pleasant to sit out in their little bend in the meadow by the river. The grass was lush and green despite the yellowed and dying trees and river that flowed with water but not life. Maglor was an old elf born under the Light of the Trees and remembered how everything had sung with Power and life then: notes through a whole symphony, clear and bright no matter the season or weather.

Beleriand was dying, Maglor could feel it even beyond the overwhelming pull and agony of the Oath. Morgoth and the combined might of the Valar clashing in battle after battle through the War had put a final punctuation on what had been a long slow decay as Morgoth devoured everything bit by bit. 

He dearly hoped wherever Elros and Elrond ended up would be safe and sing with at least a little of the clear power he remembers.

The boys were happy, a picnic was a rare event and he had made sure to pack their favorites one last time. Elrond ran back and forth, exploring in their little open space, secure in the knowledge that the leading edge of the Feanorian soldiers was a mile further downstream and they were safe within its bounds. Elros was building a fairly ornate balanced rock tower down on the shore. 

Maglor laughed a little at them acting half their age for once, rather than too responsible and too used to the dangers of Beleriand. They hadn’t noticed that Maglor wasn’t carrying even a belt knife. 

They also hadn’t yet noticed that they hadn’t seen Erestor today. Maglor had checked very quietly and been relieved that the young soldier appeared to have abandoned his tent and most gear and silently vanished into the night. 

He had managed to Sing them to a little less caution as they walked downstream. The twins were too strong for it to last long but hopefully it would hold long enough for the trap to spring.

“What type of bug is this Ada?” Elrond had found a caddisfly, encased in its own little handmade shell of grains of sand. 

Elros left off building to look at the insect before hauling Maglor to look at his tower. “Look Ada! I put arches in this time.” 

Maglor smiled and said, “Boys, let’s eat. Then you can go back to exploring.” A lie, the Oath is eroding his mind but he hasn’t yet lost the ability to lie well. 

He unloaded the little hamper onto a blanket and the Twins dug in happily. Maglor nibbled on a cookie and watched the pair: identical expressions of glee as they ate, just slightly too thin (and oh, they had tried so hard but there was so little to be had and growing elflings needed so much food), long black hair slightly unkempt and ragged. 

His mother would have had words about that hair. She would have tutted and abandoned her current sculpture to find her shears and even up the ends. She would have brushed and re-plaited the silky stuff: Elrond with his multiple braids woven together into a single plait, Elros with the high tail and side braids Maedhros usually wore so that he could “look like Adar”.

He had timed it correctly, the boys had just finished eating when a contingent of soldiers and one of Gil-galad’s high command appeared at the edge of the trees. He reached forward around the hamper and hugged the Twins one last time, pulling them to his chest tightly. “Elrond, Elros? I want you to always remember that Maedhros and I love you very much.”

Then he stood with a lurch and took three steps back off the blanket as the soldiers ran into the meadow. Elrond and Elros had been well trained, upon seeing strange soldiers they immediately tried to run and were instead tackled and pinned onto the blanket. 

As the general wearing Gil-galad’s colors rode up Maglor ignored the swords pointed in his direction and said, “You’ll have to bind and carry them.”

The commander said, “Maglor Feanorian, for your crimes you should be tried and executed.”

Maglor coldly responded, “I came unarmed with Elros and Elrond Earendilion. Arrest or kill me and you will break the terms of the agreement.”

Elrond and Elros went still. “Ada?” Elros quavered. Elrond simply lay there shivering.

The general stared down at the two stricken elflings and then glowered at Maglor. “Go. You have fulfilled your end.”

Maglor turned without a word and walked back to the trail, turning to follow it back upstream toward the Feanorian camp. If Maedhros had done it properly, he would walk through a one-mile section without any soldiers and then back into Feanorian lines.

As he disappeared into the trees, he could hear the boys shrieking, “Ada! No, please! Ada!” 

This way they would be fed and cared for and the Doom wouldn’t get them too. 

He decided that he didn’t care if Gil-galad’s soldiers saw him crying as he walked. 

***

“Now the mist was of the purest and most beautiful light, so thus contained within the Lamps it illuminated and nourished all it touched. So trees were greener and the water deeper and bluer and even the little ferns uncurled a little fresher and more beautiful. And there, in the middle of it all, where the Light met….”

Elrond awoke that morning to the story of the Lamps. He lay still and listened to the old familiar story. Maglor’s voice still had a faint rasp: part of the healing he had done last night was for an incipient infection of the lungs that would need tea for several more days. Elrond was actually surprised that his foster father was even conscious this soon after the stress of the healings.

He slithered slightly more upright from where he lay next to Celebrian and craned his head to see the couch. Just as Elros and he had been, Elladan and Elrohir were spellbound, sitting on the hearth step in front of the banked coals and staring at the couch that held his foster father. 

He considered the temperature the room: still okay considering how his sons were bundled. The fire wouldn’t absolutely need tending for another hour or so and he also didn’t need to be awake for another hour or so. 

He considered his father: also sounds fine. Elrond hadn’t been sure how Maglor would wake up (what level of disoriented), but telling stories to Elladan and Elrohir would indicate okay at this point. 

Elrond scrunched his way back down next to his wife and went back to sleep. 

The next time Elrond woke up it was quiet in his bedroom except for the sound of soft breathing. He slid out of bed and pulled a robe on over his night clothing before walking over to the hearth. His sons and father were asleep on the couch. Or to be more precise, Maglor was stretched out on the couch in a familiar sprawl and his sons were tucked on either side of Maglor’s chest. They were neatly tucked in under the blankets and held in place with Maglor’s arms so that he had the back of a small head on each shoulder. 

Looking out the curtained window, the dangerous freeze had continued and the bright morning sunshine glittered enticingly over the coating of snow. It was ominously silent, the Great Falls were completely frozen for the first time in memory.

Elrond smiled. He was going to have to have a word with Glorfindel and Erestor about their habit of pulling dangerous stunts, but he is happy his father is finally safely with him.

***

Glorfindel woke up cold. He shivered, tried to pull the blankets and quilts up a little higher and snuggled a little deeper into Erestor’s arms. The blankets were already up over his ears, so the attempt didn’t fix the fact that his backside was chilly or that what had initially awakened him was not the cold but a dream about the Grinding Ice.

He had dreamed he was walking through the endless dark and blowing snow again, in a line with the other followers of Turgon. As the scene had changed he had discovered himself out there alone and lost between the mountains of ice. Glorfindel sighed, it was an unsettling dream but the horrible lost and lonely feeling was rapidly dissipating: Erestor was still asleep but had him held in a tight clutch around the shoulders. Glorfindel would have difficulty wiggling free without waking him.

The room is cold; in their exhaustion last night they hadn’t bothered to restart the fire before collapsing into bed. Erestor doesn’t seem cold, but he has Glorfindel as an additional blanket. 

Glorfindel could get up and make a fire in the hearth, but he would have to wake Erestor enough to get him to let go. He sighed and tucked his nose down under Erestor’s chin, admiring the soft skin of Erestor’s neck up against his cheek. 

Maybe Erestor wouldn’t mind waking up a little early?

Erestor said, “Your nose is cold. And we have to get up and go fix the problems we created by hauling Maglor Feanorian into Imladris in the middle of the night.” 

Glorfindel sighed. It had been worth a thought. 

There was laughter in Erestor’s voice as he continued, “If you go turn on the shower so the water’s warm we have time for a shower together before breakfast though.”

Glorfindel smiled, he liked this compromise.

The unfortunate discovery that the pipes in their bathroom were frozen solid happened about two minutes later. 

***

For Maglor, the second time waking up that day was no less confusing than the first. At least he seemed to be still alive, still warm, still bandaged, and still with the two little elflings who were not Elros and Elrond. Elrond was kneeling in front of the couch smiling widely at him. 

What he done to make Elrond so happy?

Elrond said, “Good morning, Ada. Would you like some breakfast?”

Breakfast? What had he done to deserve breakfast? 

As he wordlessly pondered Elrond smiling at him, the elflings on either side of him stirred. One blinked and then cried, “Good morning, Ada!” scrambling over the top of Maglor into his father’s arms. His brother was awakened by the heedless feet and also tackled Elrond. 

Maglor lay there and watched Elrond hug the two squirming elflings. Finally, Elrond said, “Elladan, Elrohir? Did you introduce yourselves this morning?” At the giggles and head shaking he smiled and said, “I bet your mother would give you a cookie with breakfast if you can do it correctly.”

There was a snort from over by the table. Erestor was shaking his head, amused. “Obviously cookies are an imprinted thing. Are you going to get your sons to help treat him next?” Erestor and Glorfindel were unloading a kitchen cart onto the table. 

Elrond started laughing and then controlled himself enough to ask, “Well, my sons? This is your Grandfather Maglor, would you like to help me change his bandages after breakfast?” Without waiting for a response he said, “Go sit at the table and we’ll eat.”

Elladan and Elrohir ran to the table. After deliberation Maglor rolled upright, and to the encouraging smiles of Elrond, Celebrian, Erestor and Glorfindel, hobbled to the table and sat down. 

Breakfast was spent in idle conversation, with the only piece of business mentioned that the damage to Imladris from the cold was going to be much worse than expected. Glorfindel and Erestor had checked various parts of the Last Homely House and discovered that any pipes in unheated rooms had frozen and fractured. 

The occupied rooms were unaffected and the major goal now was to prevent more damage while identifying which parts of the building contained shattered plumbing. No one wanted the main water pipes to break. 

As they discussed options for keeping pipes warm, Maglor said, “Himring had that problem in the upper rooms. Maedhros had valves installed so that water could be turned off to sections. If there wasn’t water in the pipes they couldn’t freeze. During bad spells he eventually just ordered that all the “on” water areas had to leave faucets dripping so nothing would break in the middle of the night.”

Erestor remembered the dripping faucets, he had always thought it some sort of fault with the plumbing. He sighed, apparently his building designs would need a little modification. “Well, the system will need rebuilding anyways, why not order turn-off valves to every room?”

As the twins went to play in front of the hearth, Elrond switched the topic over to the more important question of the morning: how to introduce Maglor to Imladris and (possibly more critically) how to introduce Imladris to the idea that a Son of Feanor was now living at the Last Homely House. 

Maglor suggested, “Maybe I could just sneak out again?” and was met with a chorus of “NO.”

Elrond had a glint of steel in his eyes as he said, “This is your home now. If you wish to go to the Greenwood or Lothlorien or even over the Sea I will help. If you run off to starve and freeze again I will personally lead a contingent of the Guard out and haul you home again bound over a horse.”

Celebrian said, “The most important question is which suite you would like? The family wing has two available. Both open onto the Family courtyard, but one has a view of the mountains and the other the Great Falls.” She smiled widely at Maglor, “Both are lovely! The mountain one is down near Erestor and Glorfindel, the waterfall one is right next door and has the same view as ours!”

Maglor just blinked. First breakfast, now housing with family.

Erestor sighed. “We need to decide how we tell everyone in Imladris that Maglor is here before anyone works it out on their own.”

“Public execution?” Maglor’s suggestion was delivered unreasonably cheerfully. 

“NO.”

***

The first inkling of anything new, other than some joker had stolen a bunch of the hats and scarves Lindir had been making as he tried to learn to knit (they weren’t very good and he would have shared but they could have asked), was when Lord Elrond asked a favor. 

Lindir looked at the definitely elderly, slightly battered, but well cared for traveling harp in Lord Elrond’s hands. It was small, in an old style, the sounding box was a deep and elongate, like the large floor harps of Imladris the box would mellow and magnify the sound. Better than most traveling minstrel’s instruments. 

The truly unusual part was the harp had two sets of strings, with the sounding box in the middle: a double harp. All of the strings were broken and missing. It was hard to tell without strings, but Lindir suspected that one side had been lower range than the other, for more complex music. Looking carefully at the tuning pegs, little bits of the wires could be seen on a few. Lindir could feel the power of the Songs that had been Sung into the harp itself, to keep it safe while traveling and protect from the damage of simple old age. 

Lindir took the harp and carefully turned it over in his hands, the maker’s mark was a classic Feanorian star. “Whose harp is this?” 

Lord Elrond suddenly looked nervous. “This is one for silence Lindir.”

Lindir stared hard at his Lord before asking, “You finally got him?” 

Lord Elrond nodded, looking just slightly irritated at his chief advisor and seneschal. “Erestor and Glorfindel hauled him in last night.” 

Lindir laughed, so much for “shacked up for a few days”. “I’ll need to know what tuning and scale the strings had originally, there’s not enough left on the pegs to tell.”

“I’m not sure he will tell you. This morning when we tried to find out what he wanted to do, he suggested public execution.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Lindir brushed aside the minor litter of papers, containers of string rosin and quills to set the harp down in front of him on the desk. 

Lord Elrond looked too tired for the hour, “We haven’t decided yet. Definitely NOT a public execution, and just hiding him forever is unlikely to work either. I’d rather have the information come out in a controlled fashion.” 

“Imladris has too many diverse groups for it to be easy.” Lindir thought for a moment, staring at the elderly harp between them. Lord Maglor is a legend among minstrels. “Did Lord Erestor or Lord Glorfindel have any suggestions?” 

“Glorfindel suggested a public swearing of fealty with all of Imladris in attendance. Erestor suggested just simply announcing that my father had moved in and not to bother him or face Erestor’s knives. I have to admit; at the moment Erestor’s idea has merit. Maglor would rather run away than face a public gathering of any sort.” Lindir was silently amused when Lord Elrond rolled his eyes: a gesture adopted from Lord Erestor over the millennia. 

Lord Elrond continued, “I think the real problem is that he needs a reason to be here. A job, if you will.”

Lindir opened his mouth and Elrond hurriedly cut him off with, “Your job is safe! I have no intention of turning you out for him!”

That had not been what Lindir was going to say (or in any way a concern of his), but he appreciated the reassurance. “My Lord, shall I gather information on what the mood is likely to be? I can do it quietly with the minstrels while you consider options.” 

After Lord Elrond had bustled off, Lindir stared at the harp. He’ll still need to talk to Lord Maglor in order to replace the strings but there is plenty that the harp needs before then.

Lindir remembers the horrible uncertainty of being in a new House and wondering if he will fit in as (at that point) the only minstrel. The House of Elrond, even full of Feanorians had seemed safer than any of the other fates he could see in alien Lindon. He had wondered if they would accept him, or if he had made a horrible mistake. The feeling hadn’t lasted long as he had quickly been adopted into their ranks, but he still remembered the fear. He is willing to do anything for Lord Elrond, and asking his minstrels to listen was a small matter.

He stared at the little harp again. The first place to start would be with some careful cleaning and wood oil. 


	2. Lindir – Instrument repair work takes a while, and can’t be rushed.

Maglor was still baffled. After being stuffed full of breakfast and being told he was here to stay, Elrond had carefully checked him over again, healed more of his feet, poured medicine into him, and changed bandages while the two little elflings watched. Elladan and Elrohir. Identical twins, black hair and gray eyes just like Elrond and Elros. The Noldor blood must be very strong: Celebrian is a lovely elf lady with Sindar-silver hair that sprang in curls about her head and flowed down her back in ringlets. (she reminds him of someone, but he can’t decide who) He seems to remember that Idril’s hair was the same incandescent gold as Glorfindel’s. 

The Idril he remembered had been such a tiny little elfling, and he had helped burn the boats. They said that her mother, Elenwe, had been crushed and drowned on the Grinding Ice. 

He doesn’t remember Elwing’s hair. Elwing had leapt into the Sea and then flown away, leaving Elrond and Elros to face the Feanorians alone... 

His wife’s hair had been dark brown. She was dead too, she had died instead of being safe in Valinor when he had left her after Alqualonde. One night the bond had simply snapped in horrible crushing agony, leaving him alone. Except last night he had heard her sweet voice telling him to stay with Elrond… It’s a sure sign that he is mad when he starts to hear dead people.

Alqualonde… The Grinding Ice… Sirion... Doriath… Elros and Elrond… 

He keeps orphaning children. Celebrian is sitting in the armchair next to his couch and embroidering. Elladan and Elrohir are shouting, playing and running in circles through the suite. 

Elrond would realize there is no place for him anywhere soon enough, and set him back out to wander. He would make sure Elrond’s children stay safe until then. He shut his eyes and drifted back off into healing sleep. 

***

It took a month of on and off work for Lindir to be satisfied the harp was ready for new strings. He was quite pleased with his work and VERY impressed with both the harp and the Songs that had been woven through both creation and maintenance of the thing. 

Lord Maglor had stayed carefully ensconced in the family wing. Even with a suite in the family wing himself (apparently Lord Elrond counted him as family after being together since Lindon) Lindir had not seen anything of the ancient elf lord. There was rumor on the streets of Imladris that SOMEONE had showed up during the snowstorm and cold snap, and rumor was rampant on who. 

At his instruction, the minstrels had sung songs and probed to see how the different groups would feel about Lord Maglor suddenly showing up. To his surprise, most residents of the tiny community seemed to think it was fine if he were about. But not in charge or in any prominent role… 

He supposed he shouldn’t be that surprised: Elrond’s crest is very Feanorian, and Imladris is heavy decorated with the stars. The biggest haters of the Sons of Feanor had ended up in the other Elven communities or over the Sea.

The old Feanorians especially, at least what was left of them after all these years, would be delighted to know that the last surviving Son of Feanor was safe in Elrond’s care. They had no interest in changing loyalties though: mostly Lord Elrond was too good of a ruler and Imladris too comfortable to want change.

As Lord Erestor had commented on “elf lords afraid of their own shadows” Lindir suspected that a “prominent role” in the House of Elrond was not in Lord Maglor’s near future. He had relayed the information on to Lord Elrond, and gotten a tired thank you in response. 

Lord Elrond and most of the senior staff were working long, hard days trying to organize emergency repairs of Imladris and the Last Homely House.

Regrettably, they had not taken action fast enough to keep some of the truly large water pipes in the building from freezing and shattering. All of the senior staff with any expertise (that excluded Lindir) in building and construction had been set in charge of supervising repairs to the frozen (now unfortunately thawed) pipes, flooded attics and damaged rooms of the Last Homely House and the town of Imladris at large. 

Water mains throughout the town had also broken as the deep freeze warped the ground they traveled through. Lord Erestor had been irate.

Lord Glorfindel still had the Guard and was maintaining patrols of the town and valley. As feared, there had been incursions of wargs while the patrols had been shortened. That left Lindir supervising the scribes, accounting, kitchen inventory, house cleaning and various other day to day activities. 

Lindir wondered how many centuries would have to pass before they found his “it’s raining inside” song funny. 

Only Lord Glorfindel had liked it when he had sung it before dinner last week. Lord Erestor had glared. Lord Elrond had simply put his head down on the high table and groaned.

He scooped up the little harp and a slate before heading out of his office in the music room at the back of the library. Even if Lord Maglor is in hiding, Lady Celebrian can ask about strings for him. 

***

The door to Elrond and Celebrian’s suite was ajar and there was no sound from within. 

Erestor knew that Celebrian was out in the greenhouses, fixing the frost damage. Even protected, the greenhouses had damaged plants and she had made a habit over the last few weeks to go out daily and Sing to the little plants. Between Celebrian and Glorfindel, the plants had recovered quite a bit. 

Elrond was UNDER the floor of the Hall of Fire with a construction crew, apparently the floods from the pipes had damaged the foundation and he was surveying for repairs. He had been able to hear the voices of Elrond’s crew while he directed a group in removing water damaged flooring in the Hall used for banquets. 

Maglor had been left with the Twins in the suite, a more and more common occurrence. 

In the weeks since his arrival it had become evident that Maglor adored Elladan and Elrohir and adored watching them. They adored their brand new grandfather too. Even during the freeze, when the ancient elf lord had still spent most of his time lying on the couch recovering from his injuries and repeated healings, the Twins had curled up carefully on either side of Maglor for naps. They had also listened to stories, and played where Maglor could see them because as Elladan put it, “Ada, it isn’t fair if Grandfather cannot even see the game.”

As Erestor remembered Maglor and Maedhros doing when Elros and Elrond were very young, Maglor took every opportunity to Sing power from Imladris into the Twins, to help them grow. They hadn’t shown any obvious signs yet, but Erestor wondered what they had inherited from their parents that Maglor would be so concerned. 

That particular concern wasn’t high on Erestor’s list: adding a grandparent stuffing them with power in addition to their already doting parents (and truthfully himself, Glorfindel and Lindir) certainly wouldn’t hurt the elflings any.

The rooms were far too quiet to contain a pair of young elflings. And Maglor would never leave a door ajar when there was a risk that the elflings would run off without their jackets and hats (Maglor was also dedicated to the idea of them properly fed and bundled for the weather.) 

So far, there were only rumors that SOMEONE had been found during the snow storm and deep freeze. But there was always the risk that someone would decide to investigate. Erestor pulled his knives from under his robes and nudged the door wider with a foot. 

Still silence. Looking carefully around the edge of the door, the front room at least appears to be unoccupied. The parlor table had an out of place item: Maglor’s harp, in much better condition than when he saw it last.

Two steps in brought Lindir, sprawled face first on the floor, into view. Erestor surveyed the room and stepped over next to Lindir. Lindir didn’t move but Erestor can hear him quietly breathing. Erestor stepped around him and carefully searched the suite: bedroom, nursery, Celebrian’s office, washroom, closets, cupboards. No Maglor or Twins. No signs of violence or danger. Only the harp is out of place. 

Satisfied that he wouldn’t be assassinated while kneeling to tend Lindir, Erestor knelt down next to the minstrel and patted a shoulder, “Lindir? Can you respond?”

Lindir immediately twitched and tried to sit up. “Lord Erestor?” He sounded tired and distracted but not injured, Erestor let out a breath of relief.

“Lindir, how did you end up on the floor? Have you seen Lord Maglor, Elladan and Elrohir?”

Lindir rubbed hands over his face. “I brought the harp down because it was done and thought I’d leave it on the table and ask Lady Celebrian to ask about the strings. I could hear the Twins playing in the other room….” He trailed off into silence as he stared at the walls before suddenly straightening. “Lord Maglor!” 

“Lord Maglor?” Erestor prompted. 

“I could hear the Twins, but not Lady Celebrian. I thought she was probably working, so I put down the harp and thought I would just leave a message for when she took a break.” He glanced around the room. “I turned around and he was standing right behind me, humming. Where is he now?”

Erestor rolled his eyes, the pattern is making sense now. Maglor had, for some reason, seen Lindir as a threat (he’s not sure why, the chief minstrel is a short, frail looking elf). Under injunction from Elrond to “Please Ada, just don’t kill anyone, okay?”, he had Sung the other minstrel right into unconsciousness and escaped with the Twins. 

It had been a favorite tactic of his in combat during Sirion and Doriath: Sing the elf opponent into a stupor and either walk past or slit their throats.

The Valar only know where the trio are now. Knowing Maglor would never endanger his grandchildren, probably someplace safe, warm and quiet. Outside of that, anywhere in Imladris is fair game.

As Erestor glanced around the room and at Lindir, who was still blinking in a stunned fashion. He was still trying to decide on a course of action (go to Elrond and tell him, what exactly? “Sorry, your father had a moment and has kidnapped the Twins for their protection?”, Lady Celebrian would be worse…) when Glorfindel’s voice echoed down their bond. He sounded equal parts concerned and amused. _“Uh, Erestor? Where is Elrond? And have you seen Lindir? I’m sitting and eating a snack with Maglor and the Twins in the map closet of my office….”_

Well, he guesses that he should start by crawling under the floor of the Hall of Fire.

***

Glorfindel was supervising the instruction of a group of non-combatants from Imladris on the archery course when one of the senior Guards walked up into the “safe” zone of the observation post. “Captain? I think I have a minor situation.”

“Heledir, what’s wrong?” The elf looked more baffled and confused than concerned or upset. 

“Can we walk back to your office? I think… I think this might be confidential.” Heledir leaned in and whispered, “Please sir? This is important!”

Glorfindel waved to the instructors on the archery course and strolled away, following Heledir’s lead. They peacefully wandered back through the maze of Guard buildings, past the barracks and into the main Guard building with stores, the armory and his office. 

Once in Glorfindel’s office, surrounded by paperwork and supplies, Heledir shut the door. “Sir? Is Lord Maglor in Imladris?”

Glorfindel paused, and Heledir continued, “I would be willing to swear by the Valar that I saw Lord Maglor walking with Lord Elrond’s sons, out behind the barracks. When I ran to see they were gone, but it was exactly like looking back to Amon Ereb! So Captain, I really need to know: was that Lord Maglor or do I need to go to the healers?” The guardsman was sounding more and more rattled as he spoke. 

Before Glorfindel could formulate a reply, there was a knock at the door and another Guard and his second in command came in. She said, “Sir, Lord Maglor went for a walk today.”

There was a sigh of relief from next to him but Glorfindel said, “Did you see where they went?”

She said, “They’re playing hide and seek in the back of the armory. Something spooked Lord Maglor I think. Do you have a better place to move them that’s still under cover?” After watching Lord Elrond hunt for his missing foster father for millennia she doesn’t want to risk him getting away, with or without Lord Elrond’s sons. 

They all looked around blankly. Finally, Glorfindel said, “Let’s at least get them in here where its warmer. Clear out the building, I don’t want him spooked again. Heledir, can you grab something to eat and drink from the kitchens? Once they are in my office, we’ll work out what to do next.”

The guards left to clear the building out and keep anyone else from barging in and Glorfindel went to the armory. 

It was dark and colder than the occupied rooms, and at first glance was completely empty of elf lords or elflings. Then, Elrohir popped out from behind a chest of armor with the happy cry of, “Glorfindel, did you come to play too?”

Elladan dragged Maglor from behind a sword rack, “Come on Grandfather, Glorfindel is here to protect us now.”

Maglor stared up at Glorfindel. “An Avari carrying my harp came into Elrond’s room, I knocked him out but it wasn’t secure anymore. I have to keep the children safe for Elrond.”

An Avari (or Sylvan) elf carrying a harp. Only one person of that description would wander into Elrond’s quarters. “I’m pretty sure that was Lindir, he’s the chief minstrel, probably come to ask you about repairing your harp.” Glorfindel sighed and started directing the Twins out of the armory, trusting Maglor to at least follow the elflings. “Come on, let’s go hide in my office and I’ll explain.” 

Glorfindel figured half of the Guard had to have seen Lord Maglor wander past, and if even half of them concluded that they were NOT seeing things, the secret was well and truly out. He’d better find Elrond.

***

Elrond wasn’t sure how the mud had gotten in his hair. 

At least of one of the big support beams that made the arched foundation of the underside of the Hall of Fire would need complete replacement. Of the others in the maze, at least five would need footing work. He made a note: having an access door with stairs would make it easier to get down here in the future. 

There was a scrape from the direction of the hole in the floor they had climbed down through and sloshing noises. All the workers with him stared at Erestor as he carefully sloshed through the ankle deep mud holding a lantern. His formal robes of office were pulled up over one arm and the knives usually strapped to his calves hung over his shoulder in their straps. 

“My Lord, HE went for a walk with the Twins. They are in Glorfindel’s office right now. I think we can safely say HE was noticed.”

Elrond’s heart sank. And one of the elves on the crew (normally in garden maintenance) said, “Excuse me, my Lord? Is “HE” Lord Maglor?” The elf paused, then barreled onward, “The kitchen staff was talking about extra dishes and something about Lord Erestor and Lord Glorfindel heading out in the freeze to retrieve someone. If it were anyone else they’d be in the healing hall, not your suite. We were talking about it though, and if its Lord Maglor we think it’s great.”

Elrond remembered that particular elf was one of the old Feanorians, who after the Last Alliance had requested, “All I want is peace, my Lord. Please let me sit in the gardens and build rather than destroy.”

Erestor huffed and said, “I think we should go with my plan now.”

Elrond shook his head, “I’ll go and get Ada and the Twins from Glorfindel.” Then, turning to the crew, “I’ll make an announcement in the dining hall tonight, but pass it around that Lord Maglor is free of the Oath, has no interest in ruling anything, and is under my direct care and protection. The senior staff will deal harshly with anyone that bothers him.”

He squelched off toward the ladder, calling back over his shoulder, “Lord Erestor, please finish the survey.”

Erestor stared at the stunned work crew and the muddy water flowing past and sighed. 

***

Spring was finally in full bloom and it was a lovely warm day, perfect for a picnic. 

Elrond stood in the archway of the outside entrance to the protected family wing courtyard, holding a picnic basket and trying not to laugh. He said down his bond with Celebrian, _“My Love, come very quietly to the garden. Ada is trying to teach the boys to juggle.”_

Maglor sat cross legged upon the creeping thyme with the Twins in front of him. He was demonstrating with a trio of brightly colored bean bags the boys usually played catch and toss with. “Now see, it is not the ball you are catching that you should watch. It will always be where it should be. It is the one that is going up, like so. Elladan, would you like to try first?”

His Ada had no more trouble telling Elladan and Elrohir apart than he had Elrond and Elros. He had improved a lot in just a few months. For two weeks now he had eaten dinner in the main hall with everyone, and last night gone to the Hall of Fire to listen to the music. 

There had been muttering about the Son of Feanor, but it had died down relatively quickly. Even the angriest and most frightened of the elves in the town had trouble visualizing his behavior as threatening. 

The threat of the combined wrath of his senior staff probably had contributed to the relative silence on the matter…

Lindir had easily forgiven Maglor given the excuse of “trying to protect the elflings”, an apology, and Maglor’s permission to try out his harp in several performances once the new strings were in place. He was currently trying to talk Maglor into playing with them some evening as his hands improved. 

Elladan and Elrohir had better luck: all they had needed to do was ask and Maglor had pulled out his newly repaired harp.

Elladan, who had been eagerly leaning forward, took the offered bags and gave them an experimental toss. After a couple of frantic grabs, the bags bounced off of his hands into the groundcover. Maglor laughed and said, “It takes practice!”

Both elflings ran to retrieve them as Elrohir said, “It’s my turn next!” 


End file.
